


Hurt

by Callikoneko83



Series: Celestial Fire [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Musical Daryl, Pre-Daryl/Jesus if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:06:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callikoneko83/pseuds/Callikoneko83
Summary: With everything that's happened so far, Daryl finds himself very angry at the situation they're in. When Jesus returns to Hilltop, he finds Daryl grieving in a way he'd not expected.





	Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my very first Walking Dead fanfic. And I've not written ANY fanfic for years. Having watched the series up to where it is currently, I found myself thinking of all the crap that they've all gone through. When Johnny Cash's Hurt came on my playlist, I immediately sat down and this came out. I thought it was surprisingly good, and I've very much enjoyed reading the fanfic on AO3 so thought that maybe someone would like mine. And of course, I think Daryl and Jesus is my favorite pairing of all time, so there's sort of a pre-relationship there if you squint a bit. But, since Jesus is gay, and most of the feels are from his end, it's not really very relationship-y, not that it should be since its mostly about mourning in the first place, so hopefully that won't turn anyone off.
> 
> I definitely suggest listening to Hurt when reading this, but it's not necessary. The few song lyrics listed are from it.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3aF9AJm0RFc
> 
> Hopefully, people will like this. I look forward to getting some responses. It's not beta'd, and I've not even given it a second read through. Just wrote it on notepad, and copied it into here as soon as I was done, so any mistakes are all mine.

It had been a long, bad day in a string of very bad days. But if he was honest with himself, there were very few good days since the world had gone to shit and the dead started walking. But now... the kid was gone, and Daryl wondered if Rick would fly off the handle like he had back at the prison. If he did, the hunter wasn't certain he'd be able to step up like he had before. He had so much anger and rage -- at the Saviors, at Dwight, at Negan, at Tara and Rosita for letting Dwight go back to the Saviors -- and he was shaking with how much he was holding it in.

Arriving at the Hilltop hadn't helped at all. While it had been nice to see Carol and Maggie, the tears in their eyes, and the sounds of Enid's sobs burned through him, filling him with guilt that he once again couldn't save one of their family. And then he found that they had captured Saviors -- were keeping them alive and fed, and it was all that prick ninja's idea. Even worse, the prick wasn't even there to be a focus point for his anger, out on a run.

So Daryl paced in irritation outside Barrington House, furiously biting at the end of his last cigarette. There was so much rage, guilt and frustration with the situation built up, and he needed an outlet. He'd been about to hide himself away, let the tip of his lit cigarette help him find focus like when he'd been grieving for Beth, when Maggie had dumped the girls off on him.

"I have to go take care of some things," she explained with an apologetic shrug. "Enid usually helps look after Gracie, but she's in no state for that right now. And Judith just seems lost without Rick or Michonne or..." A heavy swallow bit off the last name before the leader of the Hilltop continued. "Anyway, they need you, and it'll only be for a bit. Please."

Biting back a growl as he took Gracie in his arms and knelt to where Judith could wrap her little hands around his arm, Daryl offered a terse nod. The anger inside him almost visibly deflated when confronted with the two little girls, knowing he couldn't do anything to upset or frighten them further. Settling Gracie on one him, he ran calloused fingers through Judith's blonde hair with a sigh as Maggie walked away, wondering what he could do to keep the two girls occupied.

* * *

When Jesus returned back to Hilltop, he was initially glad to see some of those from Alexandria with them, even as he worried about the thought of how little what he'd found would stretch with the extra people. And that worry only increased when he'd heard of the losses that the Alexandrians had sustained. 

He'd attempted to go see Enid and offer his condolences, but the girl had locked herself in her room in Barrington House. So he'd headed around Hilltop, finding the Alexandrians and comisserating with them, finding out what all had happened. Hearing that Daryl had come with him had made his heart leap in his chest. Out of worry, he told himself. The hunter had been in a bad state when he'd come from the Sanctuary after losing Glenn and Abraham, how would he be now after losing Carl?

Searching for the hunter took longer than he'd thought, especially after he'd found out from Maggie that she'd left the girls with him. Though hopefully they'd be able to help soothe the Georgian archer's temper. He was about to turn the corner to head to his trailer when he heard soft, somber music dancing on the wind.

Following the sound, breath catching as a deep gravelly voice joined the gentle notes, Jesus peered around the corner. He couldn't help but smile at the sight, even as tears stung his eyes as he recognized the song.

"...I hurt myself today... to see if I still feel..."

Daryl was slumped against the edge of Jesus's trailer, a beat up black guitar in his lap as his fingers lazily strummed the strings, his attention on the two little girls curled up together on a blanket on the ground in front of him. It seemed the little ones had fallen asleep, and the song Daryl was playing was more for himself than anyone.

Jesus stood still, not wanting to interrupt what looked like a private moment for the hunter. Listening to the deeply emotional music, the cracking gravelly voice that sung quietly, the scout couldn't help the few tears that slipped from his eyes. What he was listening to was not only filled with grief, but also with self-deprication. It took everything he had not to go and hug the hunter as the song came to an end.

"...If I could start again... a million miles away... I will keep myself... I would find a way..."

Blinking as he realized the song was over, Jesus attempted to ease himself back around the corner without being seen but it was too late. 

"Whatcha want, ya ninja prick?" came the soft, gruff voice, oddly void of any real insult or hostility. Daryl simply sounded worn down and tired.

With a sigh, the scout took a step forward, nodding to himself as the hunter didn't look at him before moving even closer. Settling down next to the larger man, Jesus quietly offered, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I heard... well... I'm sorry. He was a good kid, brave."

Daryl shook his head, eyes not leaving the sleeping girls. "He was the best o' us. Wanted ta help people. An' all Ah've wanted was ta kill 'em all. Makes me so angry...!" the hunter bit off his words as his voice started to rise, not wanting to wake his charges even as his hands tightened around the guitar he held, making it creak before he loosened his hold.

Swiftly deciding a subject change was needed, Jesus leaned in, nudging the hunter's shoulder with his own and backing off as the body stiffened at the touch. Frowning slightly, he tapped the neck of the guitar. "I didn't know you played."

"There's lots ya don't know 'bout me. Learned when Ah was a kid. Kept me outta trouble. Don't play much no more. But needed... something. Ta entertain 'em til they fell 'sleep." The hunter's head ducked, gently plucking a few strings. It was a nervous habit, Jesus had noticed, that the Daryl always seemed to need something for his hands to stay occupied with. But the scout also understood the need to have something to be an outlet for your emotions, and it was harder to find when you had to watch others.

"Well, I'll leave you alone then. I wouldn't want to interrupt anything else. If you need me, you know where to find me." Making a motion to rise to his feet so he could head into his trailer to clean up from his run, Jesus was surprised when I hand shot out and gripped around his wrist. Looking down, Daryl quickly released it, biting nervously at the thumb on his other hand.

"Nah. Don' have ta go. Ya can stay. Ah'd... Comp'ny's not bad," Daryl mumbled around his thumb.

With a soft smile, Jesus settled back down, resting his head back against the wall of the trailer. Listening to the opening chords of another song, the scout was content to be silent company for a grieving man. This interaction had eased some kind of tension that had been between them. The closed off hunter had opened up some, and Jesus found himself eager to learn what other hidden talents the larger man had. For now though, he was content to simply be there and listen.


End file.
